Aspen stood there just inside the door of the training center a moment praying she didnât look too lost. She hadnât felt this lost at the start of her own training, but then again, no one expected tributes to know what they were doing. Mentors however, they were supposed to know these things. She wished she had someone to ask, but District Nineâs other mentors were quite old and had elected not to make the trip to the Capitol now that they had someone to take their place. Right, she could figure this out.
âHeyâŠâ Aspen said to the person next to her. âI was thinking of heading over to the first-aid or camouflage station, did you want to come?â
@ttwstartersâ
âWell Iâm all camouflaged out for the morning.â Sheâd spent an hour already listening to the instructor talk about how mud and stillness were her friends. Theyâd gone over different terrains and had nothing but criticism for her work. She could coat herself in three layers of swamp dirt but it wouldnât change the fact that she was a compulsive fiddler.Â
âHow about lunch instead?â She wanted to talk to her mentor about her plan, sit her down somewhere quiet. She wasnât sure how Aspen would feel about it.Â












